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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443465">How Life Slips Right Into Your Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou'>WildnessBecomesYou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ratched (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Sickfic, TGTYEL-verse, mentions of original characters - Freeform, wives who fuss over each other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:35:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mildred and Gwendolyn return from a short vacation; poor Mildred has the sniffles and it develops into something just a little worse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How Life Slips Right Into Your Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/gifts">talkwordytome</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello friends! </p><p>Talkwordytome and I agreed to do a little fic swap, and she requested a sickfic. I am all too happy to oblige :) </p><p>Title from the song Crazy by Stars Go Dim, which strikes me as VERY Mildolyn. </p><p>Hope you all enjoy a bit of fluff :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’ve only just finished unpacking when Mildred sneezes the first time. </p><p>“Oh, I knew we should have dusted before we left,” Gwendolyn frets. </p><p>“I’m fine,” Mildred says as she brings a handkerchief to her nose. “We were only going for a week, and you were so anxious to get going—“ </p><p>She cuts herself off with another sneeze, and Gwendolyn herds her towards the shower. “In,” she demands. “I will dust. Go.”</p><p>Mildred has to admit the shower is relaxing. She hears the distant sounds of Gwendolyn’s humming turn into a record playing— Margaret Whiting, a sign that she’s turned pensive. Mildred turns off the shower and slips into an old nightgown, wraps Gwendolyn’s flannel robe around herself. </p><p>Mildred finds Gwendolyn in the kitchen, just finishing wiping down the tables and counters, humming along to <i>Moonlight in Vermont</i>. “Hiya, beautiful,” Gwendolyn breathes when she spots Mildred. “Care to dance?” </p><p>Mildred smiles, steps into Gwendolyn’s waiting arms, ignores the fact that her hands are still wet from washing something down. They spin around to the sounds of Lou Busch and his orchestra before tapering down to gentle swaying to Whiting’s supple tones. </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Mildred questions gently when the next song begins. Gwendolyn presses a kiss to her forehead as she pulls back, runs her hands back under the sink for a moment and then dries them. “Gwendolyn?”</p><p>Gwendolyn shakes her head, bouncing her curls around her chin. “Sorry. I was— I wonder whether I shouldn’t have followed Jessica’s advice.” </p><p>Mildred feels a twinge in her chest, so strong it freezes her for a moment. But she comes up behind Gwendolyn, snakes her arms around Gwendolyn’s middle, lays her cheek against her wife’s shoulder. “Whether we should have gone to see Beatrice anyway?”</p><p>Gwendolyn grunts in answer. Mildred feels her take a deep breath. </p><p>“Your niece probably knows your sister best,” Mildred admits, “though she probably misses you dearly.” </p><p>“I hadn’t seen Jessica since— since she was little.” Gwendolyn swallows, bracing herself against the counter. “She’s so much like her mother. Like Beatrice. More than the others, I think.”</p><p>They stand like this for a while, Mildred’s arms around Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn taking deep and steadying breaths. Mildred counts those breaths, tries to remember all the names of Gwendolyn’s nieces and nephews: Jessica, Matthew, Jonathan, Rachel— is it Rachel next? Or is Rachel the youngest, and Charlie the second youngest? </p><p>“We can always go back,” Mildred murmurs eventually. Gwendolyn’s breath hiccups against her. “You didn’t get to show me <i>everything</i>, and I want to see it. It’s not too far.” </p><p>Gwendolyn turns in her arms and taps at Mildred’s chin until she looks up. “I love you, darling,” she murmurs, and Mildred is about to respond when Gwendolyn leans down to kiss her. She tries to put it into the kiss instead, pushing up against Gwendolyn intently. </p><p>Gwendolyn is tired from their traveling, and once Mildred pushes her into the shower, she makes them a light dinner before bed. Gwendolyn holds Mildred tightly in her sleep. The weather has started to turn outside, but they are warm and clean beneath the covers in their bed. </p><p>“Are you sure you aren’t allergic to something?” Gwendolyn asks the next morning as she sneezes for the third time. </p><p>“It’s just the leftover dust,” Mildred insists. Gwendolyn squints at her. </p><p>It’s not until they’re outside, Mildred trying to read and failing to do much else other than cover her nose as she sneezes, that it clicks for Gwendolyn. </p><p>She tilts her hat back and brushes her hair back off her face. “There were pine trees at our hotel!” </p><p>“What?” Mildred blinks, rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand. </p><p>“Pine trees,” Gwendolyn repeats. “We kept the windows open the last night we were there, and you’re allergic to firs.” </p><p>“I am <i>not</i> allergic to <i>live</i> firs.” Mildred sniffles again, then furrows her brow and pushes at her ear slightly. “Ow.” </p><p>Gwendolyn rises, returns her gloves to the bucket where she keeps her tools. She climbs up on the lounge chair Mildred rests on and straddles her slightly. “Alright, not the live ones.” She cradles Mildred’s face, turns her head to press a kiss to each temple. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if you were allergic to pine trees.” </p><p>Mildred pouts at Gwendolyn even as her hands settle at Gwendolyn’s hips. “Then why does my ear hurt?” </p><p>Gwendolyn coos softly to her, leaning a bit to the side to press her lips to the spot where Mildred’s ear meets her cheek. “And where else does it hurt?” </p><p>Mildred whines, her eyes falling shut. She lets her head fall back, too, almost smiles when Gwendolyn cushions the impact with her fingers. </p><p>“My head,” she admits. Gwendolyn presses one, two, three kisses over her forehead. She waits, and Mildred realizes she’s got specific intentions. “My jaw.” </p><p>She’s rewarded for her efforts with a line of kisses there, from one hinge to the other. Gwendolyn has barely finished when Mildred mutters, “My throat.” </p><p>“Does it?” Gwendolyn asks, and Mildred can hear the indulgent chuckle in it. </p><p>“It’s very dry,” she insists. </p><p>“Mmm.” </p><p>Gwendolyn presses a single kiss to the left side of Mildred’s neck, letting a breathy little laugh out when Mildred arches up against her. She keeps her hands in Mildred’s hair as she ducks to the right side of her neck, traces her lips over Mildred’s skin.</p><p>“Gwendolyn.”</p><p>“Let’s get you inside, hmm?” </p><p>Mildred follows obediently. She protests when Gwendolyn heats up a towel and adds mint oil to it, but allows Gwendolyn to push her to the couch and drape the towel over her ear. </p><p>“Would you like for me to read to you?” Gwendolyn asks softly, and Mildred looks up to her, nods. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”</p><p>She strokes her fingers over Mildred’s cheek and Mildred lifts her hand to touch her own face. “I— oh. I wasn’t on purpose.” </p><p>Gwendolyn bends to kiss her forehead again. “Does it hurt too badly?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Mildred admits. “It just— it just <i>hurts</i>.” </p><p>“You’re so warm,” Gwendolyn frowns. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Mildred whines again, fingers trailing down Gwendolyn’s skin as she moves off. She cries in earnest, now, unable to keep it in. Gwendolyn returns moments later, carrying a glass of water, a book, and another towel. “Oh, sweetness,” she breathes, sits down and scoots herself closer as she lifts Mildred’s head onto her lap. “It’s alright. You’ll be alright, my love, I’m right here. Drink this.” </p><p>Mildred props herself up slightly as Gwendolyn hands her a glass of water. She takes slow sips, sniffling at points, until she’s halfway through the glass. Gwendolyn has placed a towel on her thigh by this point, and gently guides Mildred’s face back to her. “Tissues are still here,” she murmurs, rubbing Mildred’s back, “but you don’t have to use them.” </p><p>Mildred nods against her. “Can… can you still read to me?” </p><p>Gwendolyn strokes the back of her index finger down Mildred’s nose. “Of course, sweetheart.” </p><p>Gwendolyn reads to Mildred from a copy of <i>Frankenstein</i>, changing her voice with the different characters. She rubs her thumb over Mildred’s jaw, a gentle massage that has Mildred drifting into a light drowsiness. </p><p>“Darling?” Gwendolyn asks gently, her voice so soft Mildred almost doesn’t hear it. She lets loose a little whine and Gwendolyn smiles. “Come on. Finish that water for me, and I’ll make you some soup, and we can have a nice long bath, mmm?” </p><p>Mildred’s ear still hurts in the morning, and Gwendolyn tucks a thermometer under her tongue while she prepares a new compress for Mildred’s ear. She tuts when she sees the temperature, wraps the blankets back around Mildred’s legs. “Stay.” </p><p>Mildred waits until Gwendolyn returns with a glass of water and mug of tea. “Ginger,” she says. “It’s got a bit of grapefruit in there, too, and honey. Slowly, now.” </p><p>She does. She’s glad that Gwendolyn decided to take an additional week off when she filed for her vacation, but she would never admit that. Gwendolyn reads to her from the morning paper about school openings and the weather and which football teams are looking good going into the height of the season. When Mildred has finished her tea, Gwendolyn pulls Mildred into her lap and massages her temples, her jaw, the spots just behind and below her ears, and all the way down her throat. It feels heavenly, Gwendolyn’s fingers cool against her heated skin, and she hardly notices when she’s being laid back down against the bed. </p><p>Gwendolyn’s lips find hers and she pushes against her shoulders lightly. “I’m gross,” she complains weakly. </p><p>Gwendolyn chuckles. “And yet I still want to kiss you. Sleep.”</p><p>“Bossy.” </p><p>“Mmm.” She kisses Mildred again, and Mildred barely responds before Gwendolyn parts and kisses her forehead instead. “I’ll be back in just a bit.” </p><p>Mildred sleeps fitfully, has to wake up and blow up her nose more often than she’d like. At some point, she realizes Gwendolyn is speaking on the phone, and rolls to the far side to listen a little better. </p><p>“Yes, we got back two days ago. I didn’t see her, no, but we did meet up with my— she’s had a hard time, Fernanda, I don’t blame her. I moved across coasts. No, I know… Yes. She’s upstairs, sleeping. Oh, she’s alright, she’s just— well, her ear hurts, and she’s got a temperature— right, that’s what I thought. Plenty of fluids, and… I’m not panicking, Fernanda, I promise. It’s just an ear infection. She hasn’t even coughed.” </p><p>Mildred blinks open her eyes and furrows her brow slightly. Panicking? Why would Gwendolyn panic? </p><p>A few minutes later, Gwendolyn makes her way back up the stairs, and Mildred lifts an arm from the covers, weakly calls out a little, “Wife?” </p><p>Gwendolyn’s footsteps quicken, and she’s in their doorway immediately. “Yes?”</p><p>Mildred blinks up at her sleepily. “What’s that?”</p><p>Gwendolyn sighs out a breath Mildred realizes she’s been holding. “Soup, and tea. Come on now, eat up, and then we’ll go on a little walk, alright?”</p><p>Mildred pushes herself up to sitting, accepts the bowl of soup. </p><p>They walk around the garden, when she’s finished, both of her hands wrapped around Gwendolyn’s bicep. Gwendolyn tells her about the places she wants to take Mildred— the places they’ve missed in Connecticut, Kansas City, Baltimore, Miami, London, Dublin, Madrid, Rome, Paris. Mildred finds herself rather intrigued with the last option, and Gwendolyn kisses her temple and promises to take a look into getting there if Mildred will give French a go. </p><p>“I’m not good with languages,” Mildred protests. </p><p>“You weren’t good with <i>Spanish</i>,” Gwendolyn corrects her. “And you ended up doing alright. You’re a clever girl, give French a try.” </p><p>Mildred huffs, but agrees. </p><p>Gwendolyn tucks Mildred in on the couch with another cup of the ginger drink from the morning and puts on a record of some operatic soprano. It’s not a voice Mildred has heard before. “This one’s in French,” Gwendolyn says as she pulls Mildred to recline between her legs. “What do you think it might be about?” </p><p>Mildred does better with the French songs than she does with the Italian ones. She’s utterly hopeless with the one German song, spends most of it trying not to laugh at sounds that she’s never heard before. Her giggling sends Gwendolyn into her own laughing fit, and then somehow Mildred has twisted on top of Gwendolyn— Gwendolyn presses kiss after kiss to her cheeks and forehead and nose until Mildred stops squirming, lulled back to stillness by gentle hands and gentle voices. </p><p>When Mildred wakes in the morning, her ear doesn’t hurt nearly as badly. She can feel Gwendolyn’s breath on her neck— it’s coming in quick, short pants, and even through the fuzziness of her newly-woken brain, she knows that’s wrong. She traces her fingers down Gwendolyn’s right arm. </p><p>Gwendolyn starts awake, squeezing Mildred lightly as she does. “Mildred?”</p><p>Her voice is breathier than Mildred would like it to be. </p><p>Mildred turns her head and shifts as much as she can to face Gwendolyn. “Are you alright?” she asks, voice still husky from sleep. </p><p>Gwendolyn huffs out a breath and ducks her head to touch Mildred’s shoulder. “I’m fine, sweetheart.” </p><p>She doesn’t sound fine. </p><p>She pulls Mildred into a bath a few hours later, and the two of them relax there. They take another walk in the garden later, and Mildred tries her hand at a few French phrases she remembers from the songs the previous evening. They still feel terribly clunky, but Gwendolyn assures her that she’s done well, considering it’s her first stab at French. </p><p>She’s only a little annoyed when Gwendolyn reveals she’d learned a little French in college. </p><p>Mildred and Gwendolyn make lunch together, mostly because Mildred is insistent that she actually is all better and there’s no need to baby her. Gwendolyn still makes her sit as she’s chopping vegetables for the stew; she holds on to Mildred’s hips as she stirs at the simmering pot, too, her chin resting lightly on Mildred’s shoulder. </p><p>It isn’t until they’re sitting in bed at the end of the day that Mildred brings it up. </p><p>“What scared you so badly this morning?” </p><p>Gwendolyn looks to her, blinks in confusion. “Sorry?” She removes her reading glasses and sets her novel aside. </p><p>Mildred pushes her lips to one side for a moment before speaking. “When I woke up, you were— your breathing was fairly laboured. You were scared, Gwendolyn.” She nibbles at her bottom lip for a moment, watches Gwendolyn’s fingers twitch. “What scared you?” </p><p>Gwendolyn opens and closes her mouth a few times, still processing the request, then sighs, drops her head into her hands. Mildred pushes herself to her knees immediately, wrapping her arms around Gwendolyn’s shoulders. “My sweet,” Mildred murmurs, presses her lips to the side of Gwendolyn’s face. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>“It’s— I— It’s stupid, really, it is.” Gwendolyn straightens a little, wraps her fingers around Mildred’s arm. “It just frightens me so terribly when you get awfully sick.” </p><p>Mildred furrows her brow and cocks her head slightly. She waits for further information, as patient as she can be, scratches her nails lightly against Gwendolyn’s skin. </p><p>“It just— it sends me to places where— where my head focuses on moments when you didn’t have anyone to care for you, when you would get so sick you were nearly dead, and even then sometimes you wouldn’t be helped. Where you c—“ she chokes off, and Mildred presses herself closer, tries to hum soothingly. </p><p>“Where you could have died,” Gwendolyn finally manages, and her eyes swim with tears on the brink of spilling. Mildred lifts a hand to cup her cheek. </p><p>“But I didn’t,” she reminds Gwendolyn. “I’m here, with you.”</p><p>“I know,” Gwendolyn hiccups, blinks. Mildred busies herself with thumbing the tears away as she moves into Gwendolyn’s lap. Gwendolyn holds onto Mildred’s wrists like they’re a lifeline and she’s two breaths away from sinking into the ocean. </p><p>“I just— the thought— the thought of if you hadn’t,” she continues, and Mildred coos to her as best she can while still listening. “I don’t know who I’d be without you. I don’t know if I’d be alive without you.” </p><p>“Hush,” Mildred commands, though her voice has gone raspy with the tears she’s trying to go back. “We’re here, together.” </p><p>“I have nightmares.” It tumbles out of Gwendolyn’s mouth, and she drops one hand to Mildred’s hip to grip there. “Ones where I’m trying to take care of you, but it doesn’t help, and nothing gets better, but by the time I realize it’s <i>wrong</i> no one can fix it at all, and you just— you’re just— you’re—“ </p><p>“That won’t happen,” Mildred insists, accidentally shakes Mildred’s head a little. She brushes their noses together in apology. “That won’t happen. I’m here, and you take such good care of me, <i>such</i> good care, Gwendolyn.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Gwendolyn half-sobs.</p><p>“No,” Mildred starts, ducks so that Gwendolyn has to look her in the eyes. “No, none of that, wife.”</p><p>Gwendolyn’s lips quirk up at the mention of <i>wife</i>. Her eyes are still watery, but there’s more life to them. </p><p>“It’s ridiculous,” Gwendolyn repeats. </p><p>Mildred huffs, pushes at Gwendolyn’s shoulders until she’s laying back down. She turns slightly and pulls the sheets back over them both, settles herself still mostly on top of Gwendolyn. </p><p>“Sleep,” she tells her. “And you’ll see, I’ll be all better in the morning.” </p><p>“I love you.” Gwendolyn swallows before she continues. “I love you so much it aches.” </p><p>“I love you,” Mildred responds, nuzzling into the crook of Gwendolyn’s neck. “Tell me again in the morning.” </p><p>When they wake, neither has moved very much. Mildred’s ear doesn’t hurt, and her throat is only dry because she’s slept with her mouth partly open. Gwendolyn is relieved. </p><p>They return to the garden for coffee, and Mildred watches as Gwendolyn fiddles with the petals of a dahlia. “Hey,” she calls out, and Gwendolyn turns her head with a quiet hum. “I love you.”</p><p>Gwendolyn grins, sunshine bright, and Mildred hides her smile in another sip of coffee.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did you know that a symptom for ear infections in adults is crying? Makes me feel a lot better about the time I was crying in an urgent care and absolutely horrified at myself for crying in public lmao</p><p>How we doin? My requests are back open, and I have a few waiting for me already! </p><p>Drop me a line below. Almost done with 2020~! </p><p>&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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